For many years when I was a child, my parents took us on a fortnight’s holiday to the Isle of Purbeck in Dorset. It almost became a family pilgrimage from the late 1950s into the early 1960s. My mother loved returning to the village where she had been evacuated during the war, while the rest of us looked forward to revisiting the same well-trodden places of interest and spending long, sunny days playing on the beach. We were joined by my grandparents, and as an extended family group we rented two small caravans on campsites near the seaside town of Swanage.
The drive from the east side of London down to Dorset was quite an ordeal in those days — especially for a youngster prone to travel sickness. My dad drove a two-tone (blue and cream) Ford Zephyr Zodiac Mk1, a large car with a powerful 6-cylinder engine that could reach 80 mph — quite quick for a family saloon back then. With no motorways, the journey took us right through the centre of London and along the best trunk roads to the West Country. It usually consumed most of the day, and we spent much of it wondering whether the car would break down before we arrived. What a relief it was when we finally rolled into Purbeck!
By today’s standards, the caravans and campsites were rather primitive. The accommodation felt cramped for a family of four, with narrow, uncomfortable beds, gas mantle lamps for lighting, and long walks to the nearest water tap or basic toilet block. Yet as children, it all felt like a grand adventure — exciting, fun, and full of freedom.
The beautiful Dorset countryside seemed almost mountainous to a young boy from the flat lands of urban Essex. We soon established our favourite haunts: sunny days at the beach in Studland, cloudy days exploring Corfe Castle village or Lulworth Cove, evenings spent in the amusement arcades along Swanage seafront or crabbing in the rock pools, and rainy days tucked in the caravan playing cards or reading comics.
Every holiday included visits to the Blue Pool and the Great Globe at Durlston Castle. Dad would drive us across the heathland and, when no red flags were flying, through the Purbeck Ranges — always an exciting thrill for us kids as we scanned the sky, half-hoping (and half-dreading) to see an army shell fly overhead. Those family memories are treasures that will never fade.
As a child, though, my priorities were simple: the joy of new experiences, ice creams, and adventures with my brother and grandparents. It’s only with age that I’ve grown curious about the historic significance of these places and the people who lived there long before us. Writing a recent blog post about my mother’s wartime evacuation to Dorset inspired me to revisit these holiday memories and explore the stories behind the landscapes we loved. Let’s take a gentle wander through them together.
Swanage – An Good Old-Fashioned Seaside Town
Our first port of call after arriving in Dorset was always the little town of Swanage. It began life as a quiet fishing and quarrying village but blossomed into a proper Victorian seaside resort in the 19th century, thanks largely to Purbeck stone. High-quality limestone and “Purbeck marble” had been quarried here since Roman times and shipped out for grand buildings across Britain. By the Victorian era, Swanage had become a bustling port exporting stone to London and beyond.
When the stone boats returned empty, they often carried ballast — old London street furniture, bollards, even fragments of buildings and monuments. Local entrepreneur George Burt (and his uncle John Mowlem) cleverly reused these pieces around the town. That’s why Swanage earned the charming nickname “Little London by the Sea” — you can still spot recycled Victorian lamp-posts, arches, and quirky architectural salvage dotted everywhere.
The town also boasts a lovely pier, a heritage steam railway that runs to Corfe Castle (always a nostalgic treat), and a seafront that became a favourite holiday spot for well-to-do families. It remains the classic bucket-and-spade English seaside town, blending old quarrying heritage with Victorian charm.
I returned to Swanage with Chandra after a gap of about 30 years. Although busier than in the 1960s, it still held that quintessentially English seaside charm that the Ward family had grown to love.
The Great Globe
Just south of Swanage, perched on the clifftop in Durlston Country Park, stands the Great Globe — a genuine Victorian wonder and one of the largest stone spheres in the world. Carved from Portland stone, it measures about 3 metres (10 feet) in diameter and weighs a hefty 40 tonnes. Commissioned in 1887 by George Burt, the “King of Swanage” (the same man behind much of the town’s recycled London architecture), it was crafted in 15 segments in Mowlem’s stone-yard in Greenwich, shipped by sea to Swanage, and carefully rolled into position.
Its surface is intricately carved with a map of the world as understood in the late 1880s (British Empire territories suitably prominent), complete with lines of latitude and longitude. Surrounding plaques bear quotations from Shakespeare, the Bible, Roman poets, and fascinating facts about nature and astronomy. Eight large stone blocks mark the compass points, and the whole creation sits on a platform cut into solid rock, 41 metres (136 feet) above sea level.
Impressive by any measure, but to a small boy it seemed an almost impossible feat of engineering and imagination.
Corfe Castle
My mother spent over five years of her childhood in the village of Corfe Castle after being evacuated from south London. She loved returning each holiday to visit one of the elderly ladies, Editha Langtree, who had cared for her during those wartime years. The village itself is a picture of beauty — a collection of gorgeous Purbeck stone cottages lining the two main streets and the square.
Perched dramatically on a hill overlooking the village, the castle is one of Dorset’s most iconic ruins. It guards a natural gap in the Purbeck Hills, a strategic spot on the old route between Wareham and Swanage. The site has deep roots: a Saxon wooden stronghold stood here as early as the 10th century, and legend (supported by some historical accounts) claims it was where young King Edward the Martyr was murdered in 978 by his stepmother so her son Ethelred the Unready could take the throne.
William the Conqueror built the first stone castle shortly after 1066. Over the centuries it was expanded — notably by Henry I, King John, and Edward I — into a formidable royal fortress of Purbeck limestone, serving as palace, prison, and stronghold. Elizabeth I sold it in 1572, and it later became the private home of the Bankes family.
Its dramatic end came during the English Civil War. Loyal to the King, it survived one siege in 1643 but fell in 1646. Parliamentarian troops then deliberately “slighted” the castle — blowing it up and demolishing it so it could never be used again. The Bankes family gifted the National Trust the castle in 1982 and it wasn’t until after that time that the public were able to explore the jagged ruins. However, the castle was a very prominent feature, visible from many viewpoints as well as the village itself. A young boy’s imagination could run wild with thoughts of knights on horseback, warriors and famous battles.
Studland Beach
Studland Bay offers one of the finest stretches of golden sand on the Isle of Purbeck — around four miles of it, backed by dunes, heathland, and a National Trust-managed nature reserve.
The beach as we know it is surprisingly young: the sand and dunes only began forming around 400–500 years ago from material eroded from cliffs further along the coast. During WWII, Studland played a serious role in history — its beaches were used for D-Day rehearsals because they closely resembled those of Normandy, and concrete “dragon’s teeth” anti-tank defences were installed (some remnants are still visible).
Today it’s famous for its wildlife, including rare birds and lizards, its calm waters for swimming, and those huge dunes that were perfect for rolling down — a memory that still makes me smile from my childhood.
If the weather was fine we’d drive to Studland as early as possible to claim one of the parking spaces. We’d then trudge across the dunes to claim a prime strategic spot on the sweeping beach. The Ward family were always laden with picnic, windbreaks, swimming costumes and beach towels, and all the essential tools such as buckets and spades for an enterprising day on the sands.
Some years ago I took Chandra on a brief visit Studland. It was very early season and we stayed overnight at the Knoll House hotel which is located close to the main beach car park and the tiny village of Studland. The hotel had just opened the day we arrived after its long winter season closure and surprisingly we were the only guests. The weather was miserable and the beach didn’t have the same appeal as my earlier recollection. We’ll have to visit again to re-kindle those more favourable memories.
Warning: A section of Knoll Beach at Studland has been used by nudists for decades. The area was officially marked as a naturist beach in 1984 although it had been used as such from as early as the 1920’s.
The Blue Pool
Tucked away in woodland between Wareham and Corfe Castle, the Blue Pool feels like a magical, slightly mysterious secret. It began as a hand-dug clay pit in the 17th century. Workers extracted fine Purbeck ball clay here until the early 20th century; the clay was prized by potteries like Wedgwood for fine china, pipes, and tableware.
Once abandoned around the time of the First World War, the pit filled with rainwater. Tiny suspended clay particles in the still water diffract light beautifully, turning the pool an ever-changing shade of turquoise, cobalt, or emerald depending on the sun, clouds, and season.
It opened as a public attraction in 1935 and is now a private nature reserve and Site of Special Scientific Interest. In the 1960s it felt wonderfully uncommercialised — just a short woodland walk from the car park, then the sudden, breathtaking sight of those beautiful blue waters (weather and light permitting, of course).
The photo shown here was taken by my father on one of our visits when I was very young. He captured it on an old folding Kodak camera while we posed beside the pool. It shows my mother, grandparents, and older brother — probably from 1958.
Lulworth Cove
Lulworth Cove is one of the jewels of what we now know as the Jurassic Coast, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and a perfect example of how geology shapes a landscape. In my early childhood, this stretch wasn’t yet officially called the Jurassic Coast (that designation came in 2001), but those with an interest in geology and prehistory had long known its riches. The coastline is full of fossilised remains from the Triassic, Jurassic, and Cretaceous periods — famously brought to wider attention by Mary Anning (1799–1847) and her important finds further along the coast at Lyme Regis.
The near-circular cove formed over thousands of years through differential erosion: harder bands of Portland and Purbeck limestone protect the entrance, while softer clays, greensands, and Wealden rocks behind them were worn away by the sea (with help from meltwater rivers at the end of the last Ice Age).
The surrounding cliffs display spectacular folding from tectonic forces around 30 million years ago, when Africa and Europe collided — creating the famous “Lulworth Crumple” in the Purbeck beds. Just east lies the Fossil Forest, with ancient tree stumps preserved in a 150-million-year-old soil layer. It’s a geologist’s paradise and a stunning day trip: the shingle beach, clear water for paddling, dramatic white cliffs, and the simple pleasure of a scone with jam and Dorset clotted cream at one of the cafés — or perhaps an ice cream or even a cider-flavoured ice lolly.
Purbeck Ranges
I remember Dad taking us on mystery drives through the lovely Purbeck countryside, across heathland and rolling hills with distant views of the Dorset coastline. Often we saw red flags flying and notices warning of live artillery exercises.
The Purbeck firing ranges (more formally the Lulworth Ranges) cover a vast area of over 2,800 hectares between Wareham and Lulworth. They have been part of the military landscape since 1917, established for tank gunnery training after the British invented the tank in 1916 during the First World War — the coastal cliffs making perfect natural backstops.
The ranges remain active today, used by the British Army’s Armoured Fighting Vehicles Gunnery School for live-fire exercises. They include dramatic stretches of the Jurassic Coast and the evacuated WWII village of Tyneham — a “ghost village” requisitioned by the Army in 1943 and never returned to its residents. Crossing the ranges when the flags were down always felt like a small adventure.
Happy Memories
Looking back, those pilgrimages to the Isle of Purbeck were far more than just holidays. They were threads that wove together generations of our family — my mother reconnecting with her wartime childhood, my grandparents sharing quiet moments by the sea, and us children creating memories that would last a lifetime. The caravans may have been basic, the journeys long, and the weather unpredictable, but the simple joys of beaches, ruins, blue waters, and clifftop wonders created a deep sense of belonging. Even now, decades later, a glimpse of Purbeck stone or the distant shape of Corfe Castle on the horizon brings it all flooding back. Some places don’t just stay in your memory — they become part of who you are.